


Concrete Angel

by Amelita



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Death, Domestic Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelita/pseuds/Amelita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through the wind and the rain, she stands hard as a stone, in a world that she can't rise above.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concrete Angel

 

"Akihito!"

The voice echoed down the hallway and alerted the young boy whose name was being called. Most children would have smiled at the sound of their mother’s voice and perhaps come towards it, running. Instead Akihito’s spine tensed and his head snapped up, his bloodstream immediately filling with a potent mix of stress hormones, causing his heart race to spike and moisture to break out across his back. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, looking to his best friend for assurance.

"Akihito!"

The voice came again, louder, harsher, with heavy footsteps accompanying it up the stairs. The boy’s eyes quickly darted around his small, shabby room. He knew well what might set her off; the drapes not drawn tightly, clutter on the nightstand, clothes not arranged by color and length in his closet, the corners of his bedsheets not creased perfectly. Everything was perfect. But Akihito well knew, that didn’t mean anything.

He stood perfectly still, the beating of his heart thundering in his ears with the sound of her approaching footsteps. His face was pale, his blue eyes enormous and wary. In the dark hollows of his cheeks were written fears no child should ever know, and certainly not one who had lived barely four years.

The door swung open, smacking into the wall with a loud bang. He jumped but stayed where he was, eyes down, hands nervously trembling, and toes curled.

His mother stood in the doorway, silent, glaring at her son's trembling form. He was tiny, his arms and legs were sticks, bowed by malnutrition, his belly round but empty. He looked more like a two year old than a four year old and had anyone seen him who knew how old he was, they might have been horrified at his level of starvation, horrified by the bruises that covered his small body and the scars that covered his back. But as it was, no one knew him. No one ever saw him. His mother made sure of that. Akihito had never left the house.

Akihito could hear smell the liquor on her breath, he could feel the anger rising from her in waves, like heat from an over, impotent wrath directed at him for the sins of his father.

Her dark eyes narrowed at him, "Get in the kitchen.”

She snarled the words at him and left swaying slightly on her feet and clutching the doorframe for balance. She slapped it as if the house was the cause of her imbalance. She left without berating him for his room, the picture that at just slightly cockeyed on the wall, the waterspot on the ceiling or the rumpled pillow . Akihito began to tremble stronger. A cold fear dripped into his blood like ice in his veins. He could feel the cold in his skin as it grew pale.

"NOW!" The single word crashed through the paper thin walls, and Akihito looked wildly for comfort. He found it in the eyes of the boy that stood in the corner. His mother hadn’t seen him, but she never did. Amber eyes looked at him solemnly and he nodded, giving a small smile of comfort. Akihito drew a deep breath and he nodded back. He knew the darkhaired boy would follow. He wouldn’t be alone. He never was. The little boy ran down the stairs and into the kitchen.

He saw his mother standing and holding a jar of peanut butter. Peanut butter was smeared around the outside of the inside of the glass jar to make it look full but it was empty. Akihito knew because he had eaten what was inside. A little bit at a time, stolen only when he was so hungry he couldn’t stand it anymore. Just a fingerfull at a time, but his mother controlled everything he ate and he had taken it without her permission.

Akihito kept his eyes glued to the floor as his mother moved to tower over him

"Explain this to me," she said, her voice dripping with acid, her eyes glowing with hate. Akihito’s stomach clenched and his stomach heaved and he tried to breath.

"Did you eat this Akihito?" she spat at him, practically panting and rabid in her fabricated anger. She shoved Akihito with the flat of her palm and then jabbed him again with her finger. "Did you?!"

"Umm… I… uh.." Akihito mumbled, mouth dry, eyes darting around the room, his lungs working fast to gain air. There was no answer that would free him from this. He looked wide eyed at the taller boy who stood strong at his side. A large hand took hold of his. It was warm and comforting. He was there, but his mother couldn’t see him.

"You thieving little snake,” Her voice was like a dagger, small and thin but extremely dangerous, “I will not house a fucking thief." Her eyes were twitching and her lip was curling up and down in an evil sneer.

Tears of terror welled up in Akihito's eyes, building up before cascading over his long dark lashes and ghost white cheeks.

"I'm sorry Mommy, I was just so hungry," he sobbed.

"You didn't pay for this food. You're a little stealer. You steal things that aren't yours. You don't work for what you take. You're a little fucking criminal, like your worthless father, and I will not have it."

"I'm not a thief..." Akihito seemed to crumple, standing there, arms held in, hands clenched over his chest, hunched over as if he was trying to shrink and disappear and hide from his mother. He wasn’t a thief. He wouldn't have stolen it, its just he was so very hungry.

"I'll teach you to steal. I’m going to bring you up right, so help me God. No son of mine if going to grow up to be a thief.” Her thin bony hand reached for an old leather razor strap that hung on a rusty nail. Akihito’s eyes widened in recognition. She took a step towards him.

He shook his head. His mother took another step.

The slap cracked in the air like a lightning strike, and Akihito fell to the floor, shrieking and holding his face. If anyone heard him scream, they ignored it, turning up their televisions, reminding themselves that it wasn't their business.

The leather belt cracked against his arms and hands as he tried in vain to protect himself from the demon that gave birth to him. He bawled, tucking into a ball and crouching in the corner, trying to protect as much of himself as he could. He screamed as the leather bit into his skin again, leaving welts and bleeding ulcers over old scars. Scars upon scars, too many to count. The leather whistled through the air and Akihito’s fingernails bit into his palms. Akihito moaned as he felt his friend’s arms wrap around him, holding him but it did nothing to protect him from the cruel beating.

“Should whip you in the face. Ruin that pretty face. Look so much like your father. Silver-tongued devil. Should gauge his blue eyes out. Burn them. Little. Fucking. Thief."

With each word, his mother brought the belt down; rhythmic slaps of leather back, head and shoulder as he cowered beneath the onslaught repeating over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Mommy, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!"

His begging only seemed to further enrage her and she hit him even harder, her anger and her madness making her strong and she laid one powerful lash after the other on the tiny helpless boy. "This is my house. And you obey me."

"Yes, Mommy," Akihito cried out, his body shaking as the tears ran from his eyes.

Finally she stopped, dropping the leather strap on the floor and picking up a bottle of cheap vodka from the counter. Akihito watched her from where he cowered in the corner as she went to take a swallow and nothing but air met her greedy mouth. She looked in astonishment at the empty bottle and then rounded on her small son, "Did you drink this?"

Akihito’s teeth chattered in his skull as he tried to answer, "N-no Mommy!”

Her eyes widened until they were practically popping out of their sockets and her mouth opened in a fit of rage. She clutched the bottle in one hand, the other distorted into a claw, “You THIEF! You little THIEF!! I will not have it!”

She threw the empty bottle at Akihito and he just barely managed to dodge. It shattered against the wall and showered him with glass. Invisible arms tightened around him as he shook. His bare skin was surrounded by razor sharp pieces of glass.

His mother grabbed Akihito's arm, yanking him until the joint popped. She dragged Akihito through the glass as the boy crawled after her, trying to keep up, even as glass embedded itself in his young thighs and feet, blood smearing the floor.

“Get up!” she screamed in frustration as he tried and failed to stand because of the glass in his feet.

That was when she grabbed the broom and began to strike him with it, cracking the wood down across his back and breaking the toddler’s fragile body. He was just a baby, but she couldn't see that. The madness had afflicted her mind, the alcohol had turned it to mush. All she could see was Akihito's father and all she wanted was revenge for the wrong she felt he had done her.

"Stop... please Mommy, please stop..." Akihito sobbed and cried and choked on his own tongue as snot drooled from his nostrils and his hair stuck to his hot wet cheeks. The pain faded away as she hit him several more times, the broom handle thunking almost hollow against his flesh.

Finally, she seemed to tire, her feet shuffling in confusion as she stumbled drunkenly towards the living room.

"Clean this mess up." She bellowed from the doorway and with that she finally left Akihito alone.

He lay on the floor and stared into the golden eyes of his best friend. He didn’t understand how his mother couldn’t see him, but he knew he was real. He had been there Akihito's entire life. His only friend. The older boy slid onto the floor and laid facing Akihito, nose to nose, as he ran his hand over the tiny boy’s face and cheek, stroking it with his fingers. Suddenly Akihito turned and retched, blood and bile mixing on the torn linoleum as his empty stomach twisted in on itself. Warm fluids pooled around his body.

He wanted it to be over. He just wanted it to be over. Akihito cried brokenly, “Take me with you please, take me away with you…”

The older boy smiled sadly, his dark hair falling over his brow as he kissed Akihito’s cheek. Golden eyes locked onto Akihito’s pained blue ones and the pain was suddenly gone. Light shined from around his friend and his hand seemed more solid than ever as Akihito took it and walked with him into the light.

-

A statue stood in a shaded corner of a quiet cemetery guarding the peaceful grave of boy who never knew peace in his lifetime. His life had ended far too quickly and he had already been forgotten by the entire world.

A breeze passes through a cherry tree and a few pink blossoms cascade onto the gravestone as if they were placed there. It draws the gardener’s attention and he bends on a knee to sweep his hand across the polished marble so he can read the name inscribed and the dates of the little one's birth and death. They are far too close together. He sighs and shakes his head. His fingers brush over the face of the statue, a tiny angel with an upturned face.

Another breeze sweeps the cherry blossoms away. To his ears the rustling of the trees sounds like a child’s laughter and he looks up, but his eyes can’t see the two boys sitting in the cherry tree. One is small with blue eyes and blond hair, the other is taller, older, with amber eyes and dark hair. They sit in the tree and their feet dangle, their pristine white wings fluttering as they lean their heads together and laugh again, at a secret joke no one will ever know.

The young one looks up at a pair of boys that beckon him to come and play with them, one blond and one brunette, both his same age. He smiles and waves at them as more children come out of the clouds to play, their ethereal bodies shimmering and dancing in the sunlight. The little blond tugs eagerly on his guardian angel's hand and the darkhaired boy smiles affectionately at him, ruffling his golden hair. The pair lifts into the sky, flying to meet their friends, flying to a place where they are safe, flying to a place where they are loved.

-

[Inspirational Music: Concrete Angel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtNYA4pAGjI)

 

 _“Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep._  
_I am a thousand winds that blow; I am the diamond glint on snow._  
_I am the sunlight that ripened grain; I am the gentle autumn’s rain._  
_When you awaken in the morning’s hush, I am the swift uplifting rush,_  
_Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft star that shines at night._  
_Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there; I did not die.”_  
– Irish funeral prayer

-

Need more? There's a LOT more! Come check out my Facebook and Tumblr pages if you want to know more about me and my writing!  
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